


Collisions

by Somedeepmystery



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-15
Updated: 2005-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/pseuds/Somedeepmystery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoe finds their pilot extremely bothersome, especially when he manages to save them from certain death. Pre-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash

  
  
Zoë stood in Serenity’s galley watching the shadows on the walls shift as the space vessel maneuvered in for approach to the next planet. The galley was a fair sized room, Zoë decided, for a midsized ship like this. It met their needs, such as they were, for feeding and sustaining a small crew, even hosting the occasional meetin’ as it were. So, as much as she’d been leery of the idea the day Mal, her sergeant in the war turned captain, had shown it to her, she now had to admit that, after nigh on to a year of sailing on the boat, Serenity was actually growin’ on her.  
  
There was another ghostly move of the shadows as a bright stream of sunlight shot through the row of narrow windows above her. The ship shuddered a little abnormally, and she frowned a bit, then returned to her task. She distracted herself from her mundane chore by setting her mind to the job ahead. Their next order of business was to drop their cargo off on this subsequent world, Beryl, an odd tropical moon, where their client waited anxiously for his shipment. It was actually legal cargo for once, which did have its upside. Bit less stress.  
  
Of course there was that whole taxes and dues to the Alliance that came with the legal bit, which sort of ruined the silver lining part for Zoë. She hadn’t fought for years against them in the war for nothing after all.  
  
She pulled open one of the many steel drawers that lined the small kitchen area and tossed an assortment of mismatched spoons, forks, and chopsticks into it, her long fingers deftly stacking each piece into its appropriate slot with the ease of familiarity. Her coffee toned skin glowed in a shaft of sunlight, pure white as it streamed through the emptiness of space without interruption, and into those unadorned windows that graced the galley ceiling. Once the utensils had been stored safely away, she turned her gaze balefully to the only other thing remaining on the short counter.  
  
It was a small white box, simple and unassuming. The card it came with, still attached, bore her name in familiar handwriting. Not that she’d admit to any but herself that she recognized that annoying little gadfly’s handwriting. Bu ke jiu yao de sha zi of a man.  
  
How had he found out about this particular yen of hers? The man seemed harmless enough at first, in a completely off putting, goofballish sort of way, but he could be irritatingly observant at times. She had only stopped for a moment to look at the small offering of fruit that had graced the tiny, unsanctioned farmer’s market on the last border world they’d visited. But she had stopped, and wished for a moment that she hadn’t needed to spend all her coin on more important things like ammo and gun oil, and new boots. As much as she prided herself on the care she gave her weapons, there was still a part of her that cried out every once in awhile, demanding that it wanted to be just a little frivolous.  
  
She supposed she was glad of it really, that it hadn’t been burned clean out of her in the war, and that beneath the hardened soldier, there was at least still part of a woman. Flesh and blood. So many people had lost all hope and humanity in the long drawn out battles waged on planet after planet, the odds against them in their fight for freedom. Even those that didn’t lose their lives often lived as though they had. She didn’t want to be one of them; she wanted something left the Alliance hadn’t taken.  
  
There was another odd shift of the ship beneath her, a trembling that was all kinds of unusual, and she grabbed the counter for balance, tossing a look in the direction of the bridge. Ah, maybe he was slipping? Didn’t usually feel nothin’ when he took them into the world. It would make a nice change, knocking the cocky off of him just a bit. As she thought this, her hand moved instinctively towards the nettlesome little box, pulled it to her and, flipping open the lid with one long finger, she peered inside.  
  
Twelve plump, blushing red cherries sat neatly within, set in perfect little rows along the bottom of the box, their long green stems pointing toward the galley’s yellow, paint chipped ceiling. Each one was rich in color and rosy, unblemished and shiny, as if someone had picked out each one carefully and polished them by hand. They looked ripe and tangy, and near to bursting with sweetness. She touched one with a gentle finger tip.  
  
She looked cautiously in the direction of the bridge, as if the pilot would appear any second and catch her with them. Another small shudder of the ship reminded her that he was busy taking them into the world. She plucked one piece of the fruit out by its long stem, dangling it in front of her as she looked it over, noting its perfection and thinking it looked too good to eat. Almost. She smiled as she slipped it between her full, un-rouged lips, biting into the delicate flesh and feeling the burst of succulent flavor burst into her mouth, tingling over her taste buds, and she sighed in pure carnal pleasure.  
  
She pulled out the stem with the pit still attached, a trick she’d learned as a young girl and tossed them into the trash receptacle. Then she closed the lid and placed the box carefully into the larder, making sure it was toward the back, and secured, so its precious contents wouldn’t be tossed about. She pulled off the note and stuck it carefully into her bra, out of the way for the moment, until she could throw it away in a safe place where Mal wouldn’t be likely to see it. No need to get him riled about the pilot’s newest angle in pursuit of her. Not that he would necessarily, but he liked to run a smooth operation. Fraternization between crew members didn’t make things smooth. Tended to make them unsmooth, as a matter of fact. There was also the fact he’d likely make a joke of it all. She didn’t want that either.  
  
It was while she was thinking these thoughts that Serenity lurched startlingly, vibrating viciously, so that the mismatched array of chairs around the long galley table bounced across the floor. Another lurch sent her stumbling a few steps backward. It wasn’t usually anything really disconcerting to be tossed about somewhat on entering the atmosphere, just unusual since the day their pilot had signed on, so it wasn’t until she heard the string of curses flying down the passageway from his direction that she started to get a bit concerned.  
  
“Wash? What the gui is going on?” she called as she ran up the steps out of the galley and along the short corridor, stumbling forward into the companionway to the bridge, as Serenity pitched again. She climbed up, through the portal onto the bridge, and looked over at the pilot. His ginger gold hair was sticking up every where as usual, his broad shoulders were outlined by the bright sunlight that streamed in through the front visor panes, and his hands were working frantically over the lighted panels in front of him. Her eyes errantly drifted over his arms, as they seemed to do far too often lately. He was wearing a white a-shirt under a black utility vest and a drab green flight suit with the arms tied at the waist. The lack of sleeves afforded her and uninterrupted view, from the bulge of his deltoid to the complexities of the muscles working in his forearm and wrist, every nuance, and her eyes took full advantage.  
  
Qu you ci li, she chastised herself. They’re just arms! She’d seen more then a few arms in her lifetime. Far more muscular arms to be true. Many times. Tall Jim had a bicep she couldn’t encircle with both hands. Of course, Tall Jim was long dead on the battle ground of some world far from this place. His biceps didn’t stop him from taking a bullet in the brain pan.  
  
“Zao gao! Wash, what’s going on up there?” came Mal’s tinny sounding, but clearly pissed off, voice through the com, snapping her back to reality. Zoë noticed Wash didn’t bother to answer the Captain; he was too busy cursing under his breath in a steady stream of Chinese, his hands still flying over the instrument panels, flipping switches and turning knobs, but he spared the com a quick and dirty glare.  
  
“Don’t you think you ought to be steering this boat, Pilot?” she demanded seeing the yoke was loose and moving with the whim of the ship.  
  
He turned for a second, surprised at the sound of her voice, and then turned back to his task, saying with a mock calm that grated severely on her nerves, “Oh, gee, you think? Of course it would help…”. He reached up mid-sentence and grabbed the com receiver. “If I had any damn engines!” he shouted the last bit into the small black handset, “Bester, would you mind telling me what the hell’s going on back there?” Wash demanded, his voice denoting a trace of panic for the first time.  
  
“You mean the engine’s not runnin’?” Zoë said stunned, even though, now that her mind focused on the ship, she realized the whole sound of her, the feel of her beneath the feet, was off, she couldn’t hear the atmo engines like she should, nor feel their vibrations.  
  
Wash didn’t answer in any case; he was back to flipping switches.  
  
“Uuuhhh…mmm… Yeah, I’ll have to get back to you on that,” the mechanic said falteringly through the com.  
  
“Bu zhong yong de huai dan!” Wash growled under his breath, “You better sit down and buckle in, not that it’ll make any difference,” he said to her, grimacing slightly as he reached under the console, his head disappearing for a moment.  
  
Mal’s voice was still hollering over the com - “I want to know what the hell is going on with my damned ship!”- and Zoë thought he must be stuck somewhere if he hadn’t already reached the bridge or the engine room by now, thought maybe she should go find him before he blew a coil, but Serenity pitched forward again, her nose pointing steeply toward the upward rushing planet and Zoë had to brace her palms on the console in front of her to keep from falling out of the co-pilot’s chair. Still Wash’s head was under the console, and his left hand was caressing it gently, in a manner she found both odd and strangely interesting.  
  
“I’m sorry, bao bei, this is gonna sting a little,” Zoë’s eyes grew wide at his use of the endearment, until he yanked out a bundle of wire and reappeared. She realized that he was talking to the ship, and rolled her eyes. She looked out the front and had to turn away again at the queasy feeling that came over her.  
  
“What can I do?” she asked, looking back to Wash, her voice shaking with the ship as Serenity began to shudder and tremble more violently around them.  
  
“Best bet would be to stay where you are,” he answered evenly, as his skilled fingers sorted through the mass of wires and pulled the ones he wanted.  
  
“I don’t like feeling useless,” she said, her voice a controlled calm that belied the rolling of her stomach. Panic was not an option for Zoë, hadn’t been since the early days. Never did anyone one much good in any case, as far as she could see, so there was no point in being panicky. Still, she felt her fingers grip the console a little tighter.  
  
“Well,” he said, his voice so placid now that she would’ve thought they were sittin’ down for tea and not falling from the sky in a quaking death trap. His calm was actually a bit worrisome. This was Wash after all. He was never this serious, unless the situation was. That much she had learned early on in his time with them. “If it’s any consolation to ya, you won’t have to feel that way for long. We’re just moments away from being a fiery smoodge on the landscape below.”  
  
“What?” She watched as he pulled apart several various colored wires, plucking them from their moorings, and then rewired them differently. She wondered what the hell he was doing.  
  
“You have any idea how pliable the hull of this ship is gonna be by the time we hit dirt if we keep falling at this speed?” and Zoë had to admit that she already felt a drastic increase in temperature, though whether that was from the ship or her own inner battle she couldn’t say. Wash plugged in the last wire and then shoved the entire mass off his lap and out of the way. His hands were on the yoke again, gripping it forcefully, the muscles in his arms bunched tightly as he pulled back, and she heard the hiss of the attitude thrusters firing, “Come on, you pretty thing you, bring up you’re nose, baby, I know you can do it,” Wash said in a strongly soothing voice.  
  
“Wash, gorram it, are you dead or what?”  
  
“We are gonna make it through this somehow, just bring that nose up.”  
  
“Zoë, where the hell are you?”  
  
Zoë snapped out of the trance she seemed to have fallen into as she watched the pilot wrestle, coax, and seduce the ship into doing his bidding. She reached up and hit the open vox button. “I’m here, Captain. I’m on the bridge. Wash is… fine, just… busy.”  
  
“Just a little bit more, that’s it, baby,” Wash was still cajoling, absorbed in his task, his face a study in concentration.  
  
“The engines aren’t firing, I have no idea… Where are you?” her eyes were still focused on Wash, the muscles underneath his pale skin rippling with each turn of his arm, as he applied his skills to the task at hand.  
  
“I’m in the cargo bay, squashed between a crate and a bulkhead. Wash, can’t you glide her in?”  
  
Without breaking concentration, or turning from the visor panes in front of him Wash responded, “Beautiful as she is Cap, Serenity ain’t exactly what you’d call the most aerodynamic. For all intents and purposes, this is gliding.”  
  
After that comment, there wasn’t any talking. Then Mal’s voice was heard over the coms again. “Bester, gorramit, get that engine turning!”  
  
Zoë noticed the nose seemed to have actually come up quite a bit. Not that it mattered much. The ground was starting to take on distinctively recognizable topography.  
  
“Lao tien ye,” Wash said, his eyebrows rising into his hair line.  
  
Suddenly, there was a burst of sound and Serenity shifted to port slightly before Wash corrected.  
  
“The engines?” Zoë shouted, but Wash just laughed maniacally as he yanked back hard on the stick and flipped several switches. “Wash?”  
  
“Everybody strap on to something, this is where things get exciting!”  
  
Zoë watched out the front panes trying, unsuccessfully, to gauge speed and distance as the ground rushed toward them and sky rushed past them. The planet was so close now she could make out little trees and fields beyond. “Wa-ash?” she repeated, this time with a little fear in her voice despite her not wanting it to be there. “Trees!”  
  
“Come on, baby, give me just a bit more and I promise to buy you something shiny first chance I get,” he said, sweet talking the ship once more. Zoë watched as he bit his lip in concentration. He started banking hard port then starboard and she found herself once again watching his arms, the bunch and stretch of muscle, the limned hair on his forearm, undulating with every roll of the muscle and sinew beneath. She told herself it was just because she couldn’t stand to look at the ground rushing up at them.  
  
It seemed a lifetime, and yet no time at all, until the trees were smacking hard against Serenity’s hull the tops occasionally smacking into the glass in front of them. Zoë hoped Bester had gone to help the Captain, felt guilty she hadn’t gone, thought about getting up and going to check now, just to have something to do, when she heard Wash say something.  
  
“Hel-lo,” he said slowly, his voice smooth, a little rumbly, and seemingly unconcerned.  
  
“What?” her voice held the tone of a commanding officer questioning insubordination.  
  
“Lake.”  
  
“Lake?”  
  
“Mmm hmm.”  
  
“Aiya, you’re joking!”  
  
Wash didn’t say anything in response to her exclamation, just grimaced, and turned his face away slightly, with his eyes still on the view in front of them, leaning back into his chair. Zoë gasped, and braced herself as Serenity plowed into the dark water, bouncing and vibrating violently. They skipped over the surface of the water like a stone thrown by some giant child, then hit the shore hard. Zoë felt herself tossed forward as Serenity plowed through the dirt, turned suddenly and jerked violently portside before finally coming to a grinding, jarring halt.


	2. Sortin' It Out

\---

 

There was a long stretch of sudden quiet, spattered with the creaks of settling ship, the falling of dust and chips of paint, and the groans of cooling metal. Zoë pushed herself up from where she’d come to rest on top of the console, and looked around. Her dark curls, once neatly contained and out of the way, were now in disarray and falling into her face. She pushed them aside irritably, her muscles protesting adamantly at the movement, and found herself face to face with a plastic Tyrannosaurus Rex. It was one of Wash’s ridiculous toy dinosaurs. She shoved it away, hearing a loud clank as it hit the metal floor below her.  
  
  
“Is everybody ok?” She heard Wash’s voice and looked over to see him speaking into the com receiver, the heel of his hand pressed against his forehead. She moved to stand and had to brace herself for a moment before she got her balance. The ship was tilted and the floor uneven, but she managed to get to Wash’s side without falling into him. She took hold of his chin and turned him roughly toward her, pulling his hand away from the wound on his forehead. “It’s nothing,” he said looking up at her.  
  
  
“Nope,” she agreed, looking at the small cut oozing blood over his left eyebrow “Just a little scratch.”   
  
  
He frowned slightly as he looked her over, she couldn’t say why she didn’t move away.  
  
  
“You cut your cheek,” he said gently, reaching up as if to touch the place, but his fingers just hovered there. Her eyes locked with his, letting his gaze, as blue and open as the newly lit sky just beyond the front visor, look almost into her for the longest moment. She was still touching his face, feeling the soft rasping of a half days growth of stubble, and the heat of his skin under her fingers.  
  
  
“Wash, Zoë, you guys ok?” Zoë jerked back from Wash, and he turned just as quickly to grab up the receiver. “Zhou ma, someone answer me!”  
  
  
“We were just asking that about you, Captain,” Wash said smiling at the sound of Mal’s voice, finally looking back up to Zoë. “Where are you?”  
  
  
“I’m still in the cargo bay, I could use a bit of a hand down here.” Zoë gave a quick nod and hurried off in that direction, feeling Wash’s eyes on her until she turned the corner.  
  
  
She found Mal, wedged between the bulkhead and the airlock, under the crates they had been hauling. She took a moment to hope their contents were still intact, before kneeling down to check over her captain. They really needed to get paid.  
  
  
“I’m fine, just… feelin’ a little cramped, so if you could lift this piece of… gou shi... off me, I’d be much appreciative.” Zoë smiled a little at his speech.   
  
  
“You sure? Ya aren’t comfortable?” she asked, just to rile him a bit.   
  
“Zoë, stop being smart assed and get this crate off’a me!” his meridian blue eyes were glaring at her now. “My ship is in who knows what kind’a shape, and I’ve either got a pilot or a mechanic to kill, I don’t need any pì huà from my first mate.”  
  
  
“I think…” Zoë began as she moved to lift the crate that had pinned Mal’s arm so he could help with the one pinning his legs.   
  
  
“Bester, where the hell are you?” she heard Wash’s voice echoing from one of the hallways. “What kind of …”  
  
  
“Wash, get down here and help me!” she called out. After a few moments, he poked his head in from the above stairs portal.  
  
  
“Mal! You ok?” he asked with concern as he hurried best he could down the tilted stairs and over the crooked floor. In the end he ended up running down the incline and smacking into the wall. Zoë restrained her laugh, but couldn’t stop the smile that flitted about at the corners of her mouth for a moment.   
  
  
“I saw that,” Wash said, giving her a look out of the corner of his eye. He smiled at her, and her face fell straight back to serious. “Ok,” he said looking down at Mal, prone on the cargo bay floor. “We best rescue the Captain from these evil crates of doom, or he’s likely to get cranky,” Wash said, his voice filled with his usual good humor.   
  
Zoë caught herself on a laugh and Mal muttered threats of firings to come. Together Zoë and Wash moved the crate that had pinned Mal’s legs and, though he made a vocal fuss about straining something important, Wash didn’t really seem to have much trouble. She was still entirely too aware of him she realized, something that had happened while she was watching him fly the ship. Well, simple fact was, near death experiences tended to make her feel a bit keen. And it hadn’t hurt any that he had handled the ship with such skill, and quite probably saved all their lives. She wasn’t really fond of her reaction to that.  
  
  
Wash was helping the Captain to his feet while Zoë checked over the cargo and she found herself checking out his arms again. She nearly growled under her breath in self loathing as she yanked her eyes away from the dip in his shoulder where the trapezoid met the deltoid.   
  
  
“Cargo checks out, Captain, looks like we haven’t lost any of our payload,” she said, a hard edge to her voice she hadn’t intended. Mal didn’t seem to notice.  
  
  
“And a good thing it is too, seein’ as we might be needin’ a payday right badly about now.”  
  
  
“Well, it sounds like the engine is still running at the moment. We could run outside and check things out, see if we’re not too bad off? I could probably lift her up a bit. Set her on her feet?” Wash said looking at Mal, and scratching his temple thoughtfully.  
  
  
“Sounds like a plan. You go do that and I’ll go see if our mechanic is still alive.”  
  
  
“Do you intend to leave him in that state once you find him?” Wash asked dragging a thumbnail over a reddish gold brow.  
  
  
Mal frowned at him. “What do you mean, Wash?”  
  
  
“Only that I can’t help but wonder how he managed to miss the fact that Serenity’s engine was having a little issue with, oh you know… running.”  
  
  
“Well, I plan to speak to him on that matter some my own self. Now, hows about taking that look outside you suggested. Zoë, go see if you can’t give him a hand with that.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Wash watched, with no lack of appreciation, as Zoë made her way up the stairs to get her gun belt. Even the queasy off kilter feeling that still coursed through his veins since the “landing” couldn’t dim the effect the length of her legs, or the curve of her ass, had on him. He smiled a little and turned away, looking around in the chaos of the cargo bay for the tools’ crate.   
  
  
He had just finished unburying said crate when Zoë’s foot steps could be heard coming down the stairs. “Let’s go,” she said simply when she arrived next to him. Her mare’s leg was strapped to her side and her rifle was over her shoulder. He nodded and hoisted the heavy crate, moving toward the doors. Zoë’s long strides took her quickly to the console. She smacked a fist down on the correct button and the doors began to slide apart to the air lock.  
  
  
Wash waited a bit anxiously for the outer landing door to descend, hoping all was in working order. It swung out with its usual steadiness, turning into a ramp. The end hit dirt a bit harder than usual, splashing into the lake water that Serenity had brought with her, and the hydraulics groaned in protest at not being able to complete their journey. He set the box of tools down quickly and reached over to hit the interrupt button. The groaning noise stopped.  
  
  
Zoë strode out onto the ramp with confidence, her lovely back straight and her head held high as she scanned the horizon. She swung gracefully from the hydraulic extender, landing with poise on dry ground. She moved like one of those big cats he’d seen on display one time, a female tiger, all lithe and nimble, strong and exquisite. He found at times that just watching her work, or trying to understand what was going on inside of her head, was enough to completely distract him from all usefulness.   
  
  
Grimacing as he realized this was the case once again; he picked up the tool crate and headed down the ramp after her. Never having been particularly coordinated in such things, and seeing as he was carrying a heavy crate filled with equally heavy tools, he opted not to swing from the hydraulic and instead had to step into the water. His foot instantly sank into deep, gelatinous mud, and his leg disappeared up to his knee.  
  
  
“Just great,” he muttered, standing awkwardly, one foot on the edge of the ramp, the other sunk deep, making the holding of the crate just a bit awkward.  
  
  
Zoë turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. He cringed inwardly, but laughed self deprecatingly. Nothing like looking an idiot in front of the lady you’re sweet on to help with the ego.  
  
“Looks like I’m in need of a rescue,” he said, “again.” Zoë did another scan of their surroundings and then walked over to him. First, she took the crate from him easily, setting it down on the dry ground beside her, and then reached out for his hand. He took it firmly, swinging his still free leg forward to get some leverage on dry ground. Zoë seized his arm with both hands and pulled. His foot came free suddenly, with a loud sucking sound, and he plunged forward as Zoë tumbled backward, and Wash landed squarely on top of her with an “oomph”.   
  
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly the words tumbling out of his mouth as he pushed up to look at her. “Are you alright?”  
  
Zoë was looking at him steadily with an expression he couldn’t read.  
  
“I’m really, very sorry,” he repeated. Although in truth all he could think about at that moment was how warm she felt under him.  
  
“Get off me,” she said tersely, pushing his shoulders so that he rolled off her. She got to her feet with quick ease, and he scrambled up as well.   
  
“Totally not my intention,” he was rambling. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “To plow into you like that. I would never attempt such a thing on purpose. I mean you are… you could… kill me, very easily, I realize this and so… that’s not to say you are a killer or anything, I mean you’re a woman, a very fine looking and beautiful woman, but still I would never… I do realize you are more then just beautiful woman but it has to be said that…”  
  
She cut him off, unsmilingly, although the laughter in her voice was unmistakable. “I’m not going to kill you, Pilot, at least… not today.” And with that she walked away standing back to get a good look at the ship’s position.  
  
He ducked his head, grinned and followed after, trying all the while to get his mind back on Serenity and their predicament, and off the feel of her all warm, strong and yet still soft, beneath him. It wasn’t an easy task. The thought of Zoë warm beneath him was a common place for his mind to be. Ranked right up there with thoughts of Zoë on top of him, Zoë next to him, Zoë pressed against him in the corridor.  
  
Ok, ship, Serenity, focus now you loony stick jockey.  
  
He looked up at the large cylindrical engine, still lifted, extended in flight position. It was several feet off the ground, and look to be undamaged. It was difficult to know for sure with the whole side of her having been sprayed with mud and debris.  
  
“It don’t look like the engine hit dirt,” he said out loud. He braced his hands on his hips and looked up thoughtfully. “I should probably go up there and look her over a bit closer. Can’t be sure from down here, ‘specially with all the dirt covering everything.”  
  
Zoë remained silent, alternating her gaze from Serenity to the horizon behind them. The sun was still new in the sky, and the light was pale and fresh. It lit up her face, highlighting the exotic shape of her large dark eyes, caressing the curve of her full lips. When she looked into the light, she squinted, wrinkling her forehead a bit, and Wash had to restrain from staring again. She was quite simply the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He cleared his throat awkwardly and moved to Serenity’s side where a maintenance ladder was built into her.  
  
He slowly made his way across the surface of the extender, checking the joint where the engine was attached to it. He climbed underneath and checked from there, hanging upside down to check the shocks themselves as far as he could reach. He was careful, and thorough as possible, but his mind still kept traveling to Zoë.   
  
It wasn’t just the fact that she was beautiful that he found so attractive. In fact, that was all part of the problem. He wasn’t a sheltered guy, he had been around a few places. There had been many a beautiful but unattainable woman come in and out of his life. He knew when the gig was up. He figured he was an acquired taste and most women didn’t really put time in to acquire it. But, while there had been many pretty girls on many, many planets, there’d never been anyone like Zoë.   
  
  
Of course, at first that was it. He was attracted to her the moment he saw her. This beautiful warrior woman had met him in the air lock, slammed him against the bulkhead, and frisked him rather methodically. It wasn’t a moment he was about to forget anytime soon.   
  
  
She had always seemed to greatly dislike him. Hell, sometimes she still seemed to greatly dislike him. Either way, she definitely gave him the cold shoulder those first few…months… on board, and it wasn’t something Wash was fond of. Aside from the fact she was beautiful-and what man wanted a beautiful woman to dislike him-it made for some pretty uncomfortable working conditions. So it became a goal of his to make her smile.  
  
  
That was when it all started, ‘cause once he’d gotten her to smile, he really wanted to see her laugh, and once she laughed…he was inspired. It was when she started to joke back that he was good and caught. Her understated wit, her subtle sardonic tones, and the sound of her voice when a smile was hiding in it, were all enough to keep him coming back for more.   
  
She wasn’t just a beautiful face on an amazing body, she was funny and so damn smart. Stronger then any person he’d ever met, man or woman, and so real. Utterly sincere, she didn’t put on a show. She was what she appeared to be, but she was also more. He’d seen it, the way she looked out at the stars sometimes. The smile on her face the time they’d landed near that lake at sundown. She’d stood out on the ramp, arms folded over her chest, and watched until all the light had gone.   
  
He’d spent enough time with her to know that some of the things she appeared to be at first glance, she wasn’t. She wasn’t cold. She wasn’t all hard. There was a warm blooded, caring woman under all that, and also some darkness.  
  
Not that he would call himself the most perceptive guy around. Oft times he was somewhat less perceptive, but Zoë tended to grab his attention. She couldn’t be ignored. She was an equation that needed figuring. A new bit of space that needed to be navigated, a man needed to pay attention to find his way. And, since Zoë sure as hell wasn’t handing out maps, he had to employ the skills of his trade.  
  
Zoë didn’t say much, but then again neither did space ships. Wash was used to listening to what a ship didn’t say. Each one was different, each one had its quirks, and each one had its own little ways of telling you what the score was, all you had to do was pay attention. That’s what he did with Zoë. He took notice of how she carried herself, of the things she chose to say. He watched the way she responded to others. And while he’d like to be able to congratulate himself on his keen observations, truth was he didn’t have much choice. She had him wrapped around her finger and didn’t even know it.  
  
So he knew the calm on the surface, while solid and real in its own way, hid many dark things she wasn’t ready to let out into the ‘verse. He’d been around long enough now to hear the stories, and to see the way Mal and Zoë acted and reacted in certain situations. They way they dealt with different people. Zoë didn’t say much for a long while, but Mal, while also not the most talkative person, had wanted to get to know his pilot. And though all the stories he’d told held a more humorous slant, all that darkness was there, hiding behind the words.   
  
What was driving him crazy now was that, in just the last month, something had changed. Something, he thought, in the way she responded to him but he wasn’t sure. He had gotten so used to her avoidance he was almost afraid to think she might be changing her views concerning him. Afraid, but hopeful. Hopeful but afraid. A dichotomy really…  
  
His thoughts drifted back as he realized he was hanging there doing nothing but thinking.   
  
He climbed back down after a careful perusal of all the places he thought stress was most likely to cause damage to the engine or the extender. He walked over to Zoë, and took a moment to enjoy the sight of her through his squint while she was looking away, watching for trouble on the horizon. He looked up at Serenity and scratched his head in thought.  
  
The engine hadn’t hit dirt, but it was awfully close to it. He wasn’t sure he could turn it to lift off. “You know, I should go inside and check the responses just in case.” He turned to look at her. She stood just a bit taller than him, he thought it was probably the boots, but he didn’t really care. “Could you stand out here and let me know how she’s movin'?”  
  
Zoë gave a nod, still alternating between looking up at Serenity and out over the horizon. He knew she was watching out for trouble. Her slender hand resting, deceptively relaxed, at her waist, her thumb hooked into her belt near the handle of her pistol. He dragged his eyes away from her and headed back into the hold, climbing through the water once more, with a bit more care this time. He heard voices from the portal to the infirmary and assumed Mal had found Bester, but didn’t bother to go check. If he’d been a better mechanic himself, he would’ve hoped the pretty boy had gotten himself killed. Well, maybe not killed exactly, but seriously injured would be nice. Injured enough to have to leave him behind on some planet with decent medical facilities, yeah that was it. But as it was, he just hoped the guy could get them back in the sky.  
  
“Captain? You found our mechanic yet?” Wash called into the com once he’d reached the bridge. He was pretty sure he knew the answer but thought he’d check just the same.  
  
“That’s an affirmative, Wash. How’d things go on your end?”  
  
“Well, the portside engine looks to be fine, but we’ve got another slight setback might need attention.” He made a face as he stressed the word “slight”.  
  
“And that would be?” Mal asked, sounding canned, distant and on the verge of angry.  
  
“Well, she piled up quite a bit of dirt when she hit, Sir. I’m not sure I can turn the engines for take off,” Wash said, feeling a bit apprehensive, Mal had a bit of a temper at the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times. But the only response was a harsh swear in Mandarin, one Wash tended to agree with.

 

  
  
Zoë hated mud. She had seen enough mud in her lifetime to last a hundred. She had no qualms about getting dirty when it was necessary, but it didn’t mean she had to like it, especially without benefit of a real bath to look forward to afterward. She could feel it inside her boots, squishing between her toes as she walked back down Serenity’s ramp. She could feel it drying crustily on her arm as the blazing sun struck her skin.   
  
She watched the men as she stepped back into the work area. She had gone to see about another shovel after the captain’s broke, and returned to find them all stripped down to bare chests under the now blazing sun. It was 10 o’clock in the a.m., and hot as hell. Mal’s suspenders swung forgotten at his sides, as he tossed another scoop of mud over his shoulder. Bester, using his hands now after surrendering his shovel to the Captain, was showing off his tattoos, which, come to think of it, wasn’t in the least unusual. He went shirtless whenever he found the slightest excuse. And Wash, with the arms of his faded green jumpsuit still tied around his waist, had lost the a-shirt and vest. He stood out a bit on account of his much fairer skin, which was already burning a bit in the sun, and the fact that, unlike the Captain and the mechanic, the pilot had a good amount of ginger gold hair covering his chest.   
  
She felt a trickle of sweat run down the hollow of her spine, and reached down to quickly unfasten her extra layers. She tossed them aside, leaving a simple rust colored tank. She noticed Wash’s eye lingering on her for a long moment, and decided to ignore it, as well as the odd roll her stomach did. She thrust the scoop of her shovel into the mud, and tossed a pile of it aside.  
  
She heard a bit of nonsensical humming beside her and turned her head, Wash was nearer her now, his focus on his task, but he was humming slightly. She almost laughed, she couldn’t say why. It struck something deep inside her and her stomach rolled a bit more. She turned away, and looked at the dirt, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting left every so often, to watch the shift of muscle under his skin, dusted with that ginger hair, as he pushed the handle forward, and then pulled it back again in an earnest steady rhythm. Some things in life just didn’t make sense, she decided, and this was one of them. Then she watched a flex of his stomach muscles. Just made no damn sense at all.   
  
When they had finally cleared away enough dirt so that the engines could turn, the exposure of the hull showed that all was not to be as well as they had hoped.   
  
“Yep,” Wash said pushing wet, muddy hair off his face. “Looks like the heat shielding is damaged. Can’t tell how much or how bad from here, but there’s at least one section probably needs replacin’.”  
  
“Tian sha, figures, couldn’t be nuthin’ less.” Mal looked grim faced back at him.   
  
Wash thought it could be a lot worse. Sure, heat shielding was expensive, but so was a new head, darn near irreplaceable actually, and he was particularly glad he still had his. Mal didn’t seem to realize the miracle this landing was. As the pilot, he knew better. Every time he let his mind think back on their descent into the world, he felt the need to pinch himself and make sure he was still actually alive. There were at least a hundred things he could think that should’ve happened to Serenity when she hit, could’ve killed them all, and those were just the good scenarios. So, a little heat shielding, not so bad.   
  
“Well, it is the way it is,” Mal continued. “Wash, let’s see if we can get her on her feet.”  
  
Wash was surprised when Zoë followed him up to the bridge, and sat down in the co-pilot chair, especially when Mal didn’t follow, but he was too nervous about take off to ask any questions. Despite everything they had done to assure Serenity was still in working order, he couldn’t help but worry that something would go wrong.  
  
Like maybe the engine would stop turning again.   
  
“Keep your fingers crossed,” he said tossing Zoë a smile as he flipped three switches over head, and began initiating the ignition sequence. “Not too keen on doing that whole crash thing again.” To his surprise she smiled too, though a bit nervously.  
  
“You and me both, Pilot. If anyone can put her down straight it’s you, so just do your thing.”  
  
His eyes widened a bit at the speech and the compliment. With the nervousness pulsing through him, he felt on the verge of either rambling incessantly or cracking a joke. He took a chance.  
  
“That was a long string of words there,” he said grinning at her as he disengaged the stick. “You feeling okay, don’t maybe need a nap after all that? Bit of a lie down?”  
  
She gave him a cool look and damn she was sexy. “Perhaps you best just continue with your piloting, Pilot.” His lips turned up in one corner, she wasn’t mad, this was banter.   
  
“Yes, Sir,” he gave her an apologetic look, completely false, “Er, ma’am.” He turned back to his flying, pulled back on the stick and lifted Serenity up out of the newly reshaped lake. There was a bit of groaning, and a distant clunk he didn’t like the sound of. “I know, sweetheart, I’m so sorry about that lousy landing,” he responded in sympathy, and chewed his lip anxiously as he flipped the switch to lower the landing struts. They ejected with out a hitch, and he set the transport ship down on her feet, neat as you please, several yards from where she’d started.   
  
Beside him Zoë breathed a long sigh and stood up. She put a hand on his shoulder, gave a brief squeeze, and walked away. He watched her go then sat there for a moment, thinking. He was relieved at the relatively smooth take off and landing, but now that it was over he wasn’t too keen on what they’d see now that the girl was out of the dirt. Also, Zoë’s hand on his shoulder had felt very right. Those two trains of thought were an unsettling combination. He gave the console a pat, and stood up, heading through the door to go outside with the rest of them. Suddenly a popping sound startled him, and he turned in time for a grand explosion from the console that made him jump, throwing his arms instinctually over his face against the scatter of sparks.   
  
“Zao gao!” he exclaimed walking back in to take a quick look. “Oh, now that’s just not right.”   
  
  
  
The others were already gathered around the damaged area outside when he arrived, and he was presented with the pleasant sight of Zoë’s backside as she bent low to inspect a section of the ship’s battered hull. He took a moment to enjoy it before he went to see just how bad the damage was. “Hey,” he said beside Zoë, once he had gotten a good look. She looked up. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, what do you think, Zoë?”  
  
“I’d have to agree. Course, I was surprised she still had a bottom at all,” she said, her even tone not wavering. He smiled at her, enjoying her face, her subtle humor not lost on him. There was just no one else like her.   
  
“Me too,” he answered, and Zoë caught his eye for a moment and found she didn’t want to look away. He broke away himself after a significant moment, turning to the captain and asking point blank. “We got enough money to fix this?” Zoë stifled a smile. Not one for beating around the bush, their pilot.   
  
“I’ll worry about the money; you just worry about… whatever it is you got to worry about. I’ll think of somethin’ for ya,” Mal said a bit awkwardly, in a way that told Zoë he was a tad worried about the money.   
  
“Well,” Wash said, seeming to want out of that tense moment, but managing to step in to a whole new pile of it. “I need to go and rewire the console, and restore normal thruster protocol, and there was that whole explosion, might take some fixing.” Mal frowned, and turned sharply toward him at that news. Wash raised his eyebrows, questioningly at his look.   
  
“Well then, there you go,” Mal said. Zoë recognized the tendency to move right on past things he knew he couldn’t fix for the moment. An explosion? That didn’t sound good. She looked sideways at Wash with a frown. “Ok, here’s the plan,” Mal continued, coming over to where they were standing. “Bester and I will head into town…”  
  
“Sir?” Zoë asked firmly, obviously not fond of the idea. Wash wondered if it was the idea of being left here with him or the idea of Mal being without her for back up that was bothering her more.  
  
“I need you to stay with Serenity and watch out for trouble, Zoë, I don’t know what the locals are gonna think of us extending their water front property. I’ll find our client and get paid, then we’ll see what we can do to get started on repairs.” He turned to Wash. “You see what’s needed on your end; this explosion of some sort that you mentioned?” He was obviously trying to sound calm.  
  
“Yeah, not sure yet of the cause.”  
  
“Well then, you work on that, and the two of you see what you can do to get Serenity set back to rights.”  
  
“Yes, Sir,” Zoë said calmly as Wash nodded.  
  
“Shiny,” said Bester, smiling at the idea of heading into town. Mal looked at him, more of a glare really, and then shook his head as he headed inside to load up the mule.

 

 

 


	3. Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe decides to just face down the problem, best just to deal with it and then move on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a short one and subject to change a little. I just haven't figured out how to fix it yet...

 

 

Wash set the last chair back into place at the galley table and looked around carefully for anything left out of place. He had washed off the mud, changed into a clean jumpsuit, and then fixed, as best he could, the console. Unfortunately, he had blown a couple ‘a fuses when he’d rearranged the wiring. He’d been in too much of a hurry.  
  
He ran a hand thoughtfully through his strawberry blonde hair, redirecting the spiky disarray somewhat, and thinking about what needed done next. He climbed the steps out of the galley, headed toward the bridge, and had no more then stepped into the corridor when two strong feminine hands seized the front of his flight suit. He found himself pressed against the wall and held there firmly by Zoë. Her hair was loose; the dark curls a riot about her beautiful face. At first he thought she was angry, but as she looked at him for that breadth of a moment, he saw her dark eyes were hungry and smoldering. His own eyes grew wide for a moment in complete surprise and then he felt her full lips pressed against his, and for a split second he was sure he must’ve died in the crash after all. Good God, her lips were lush, and soft, and tasted better then anything his lips had touched to date.  
  
Zoë felt his surprise, the tension filling his body as she descended upon him. His arms were splayed out from his sides, and his hands were pressed against the cool metal of the bulkhead. She smiled against his mouth then pulled his lower lip between hers, tasting him, coaxing him further as she decided she liked the flavor of him. Then, with a soft moan of relent, Wash was responding, his arms wound around her pulling her even closer, one hand tangling in her hair as he kissed her back fiercely. Zoë moaned low in her throat as his mouth worked over hers. She in turn devoured him with urgent demand, parting her lips, wanting to taste more of him. His tongue dipped into the warm recess of her mouth, tangling with hers. His lips were strong and warm, they took as well as they gave and he didn’t recoil under the demands of her mouth. He took what she gave and gave back with equal fervor and Zoë reveled in it.  
  
They warred together for long moments, giving and taking with building passion. Zoë was surprised by the surge of desire that rolled trough her, heating her blood, craving more. She had hoped this was some kind of fluke, this lust that had been building ever so slowly over the months. She had hoped that it could be chalked up to the simple fact that he was an unknown quantity, but the more she tasted of him the more she wanted. She pressed into him further, as his hands smoothed down her back coming to rest on the curve of her hips, his fingers squeezing her there gently. She could feel his hardness pressed into the hollow of her hip, feel his need and desire in the passionate way he kissed her, but she knew he was still holding back. She pulled herself from him slowly, looking for a moment into his stunned expression; his eyes a lazuli lake of astonishment, confusion and need.  
  
  
Wash felt the loss of her as a deep physical pain. Damn, he knew this was too good to be true! He had tried not to go too far, not to take more then she was willing to give, afraid to break whatever spell had been cast to make her want to kiss him in the first place. Now he was heaving for breath as he watched her leave, leaning against the wall for support as he ached for her to come back.  
  
She walked away slowly, the swing of her hips the sweet temptation it always was, except maybe more so now, since he’d held them in his hands and would never forget the heat of her, or the sweetness of her taste, so rich and exotic. She reached the opening to her bunk and pushed it in, her boot resting on the first rung of the ladder down. She turned, looking over her shoulder at him, her large dark eyes shrouded in dark lashes, her full lips even fuller, swollen from his kisses, turned up in one corner.  
  
“Are you planning on joining me, sailor, or was it your plan to stand there holding up the bulkhead for the rest of the day?”  
  
It took a moment for his overloaded senses to fully comprehend what she’d said. Then his eyes opened even wider. She smiled and disappeared down the hatch.  
  
~

  
It was many long moments later that Zoe pulled him to her as they fell back against her bunk. She didn't understand why she did it, why she held on to him so tightly, but she knew she wasn't ready to let him go just yet.  
  
As his breathing returned to normal, Wash lifted his head and kissed her indulgently. Soft and achingly slow.  
  
“I’m not squashing you am I?” he asked and she shook her head, seeing her hand come to rest on his cheek without realizing she’d sent it there. He leaned in and kissed her again. His slender lips were firm and strong, yet the kiss was excruciatingly gentle, as if he was memorizing the feel of her lips, the taste of them. When he pulled away, he looked into her eyes, and opened his mouth to speak. “Zoë, I…”  
  
“Zoë, Wash!” came Mal’s tinny sounding voice through the ship’s intercom, cutting off Wash’s words. “Get down here and help us load this pile of fei wu onto the ship.”  
  
Zoë jumped and Wash grimaced. He looked down at her hand as she gently pushed at his shoulder, and reluctantly rolled away from her. She climbed quickly from the bed and started reaching for her clothes.  
  
“Zoë,” he started and she turned to him as she yanked her trousers up over her hips, the openness that was there a moment ago gone now. He just looked at her, her gorgeous face framed in sweat dampened curls, her cheeks still flushed with exertion and the pleasure he knew he’d given her. He shook his head and turned away, swinging his legs off the side of her bed and standing, searching her floor for his clothing.

 


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That didn't quite work out like intended...

 

 

Zoë was climbing the ladder out of her bunk before Wash had started dressing, forcing herself not to look back and drink in the sight of his naked body taking up space in her bunk. She pulled on her shirt as she walked, fingering the buttons quickly as she made her way through the corridors and stairs that lead to the cargo bay.  
  
What had she been thinking?  
  
Oh, she knew what she’d been thinking. It had been a harrowing day, and a long time since she’d gotten any play. And here was this cocky pilot, flirting with her and making her laugh, hard working and good at what he did, and far too forward. He was crazy, and brave in an honest kind of way that had nothing to do with the egotistical bravado that seemed drive so many of the men she’d met in her life time. She had thought to take a nice big bite and get it out of her system, but the experience had moved her in a way she didn’t want to think about.  
  
It couldn’t be anything more then just blowing off steam.  
  
She thumped down the metal stairs, taking out her irritation on them, stomping to a halt in front of her Captain, who cocked eyebrow at her surly arrival.  
  
“Just attempting to set things to right in my bunk, sir,” she said. And failing miserably, she added to herself. There was no change in the placid look she presented to Mal, however.  
  
“Where’s Wash?” Mal asked looking up toward the bridge.  
  
“I reckon doing much of the same,” she replied blithely, banishing the mental image that came to her of Wash sprawled beautifully naked on her bed, looking like he had something to say.  
  
“Well these crates need two people for haulin’,” he pressed the button on the console again. “Wash!”  
  
“Yeah,” Wash’s voice sounded from above stairs, and Zoë found herself looking up to see him making his way down, his hair in even greater disarray then usual, if such a thing was possible, and she felt a treacherous lurch in her stomach at the thought that her fingers had made it so. “I’m here Cap’n, just …” he scratched the back of his head and Zoë felt a moment of pure panic. Wash hadn’t been around tremendously long, just a bit under a year, but she knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t what you’d call apt at nervousness. One wayward part of her mind reminded her that she also knew him well enough to know the sounds he made when brought to fulfillment, and that flying a ship wasn’t the only thing he had skills for. She closed her eyes a moment to reign in that traitorous thought, but the calm façade of her countenance was never broken. And Wash finished, as he tramped down the stairs. “Finishing up with the console. I’m definitely gonna need some new fuses. I must’ve blown them out when I overrode the thruster protocol.”  
  
“Well, then you can take care of that when you and Bester head back to pick up the heat shielding.” Mal said, and Wash frowned slightly tossing a look at Bester. “For now, let’s get our client’s crates loaded nice and secure so that there is some small hope of recovering from this little foray into being a meteor.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Wash said in a tone that managed to show some respect without the slightest hint of servitude. Zoë followed him out of the ship, realizing he hadn’t looked at her once since he’d poked his head out of the portal.  
  
  
Several hours later, Zoë was still restoring order to Serenity, checking over Shuttle one, when Wash and Bester returned on the mule towing the heat shielding behind them. Zoë heard the familiar sound of the vehicle, and stepped out in time to see Bester stride into the bay, empty handed except for the banana he was happily munching on. Wash strode in behind him glaring daggers at his back, carrying a heavy package slung over his shoulder, looking ill tempered and angry. It was a disposition so rarely seen on the pilot, that she couldn’t resist responding to it.  
  
“Everything go alright in town?” she called as he started up the stairs toward the bridge.  
  
“Oh yeah,” he answered turning and looking at her for the first time since she’d left him in her bunk, his voice was heavy and dripping with sarcasm. “Our mechanic, if we’re still going to insist on calling him that, ordered the wrong shielding, but aside from that … just hunky dory!” and on the last part he threw up his hand and turned away stomping up the stairs away from her.  
  
Zoë frowned and headed toward the bridge crossing the catwalk and up the stairs into the corridor that lead to the mess. She expected him to be headed toward the bridge, but she found him there in the galley, and stopped short when she saw him shoving various things into drawers behind the counter.  
  
“I don’t recall asking for sarcasm, Pilot,” she said calmly, but without the coldness she usually aimed for when talking to him. “So, I’d like you to explain yourself.”  
  
He looked up at her sharply, a million emotions flitting across his face before he sighed and rubbed his forehead, looking down at the counter for a moment.  
  
“I’m sorry, you’re right, you didn’t deserve that.” Actually, she thought inwardly she maybe did, but she kept silent. “It’s just that, no mechanic I know would forget what type of heat shielding their ship used or wouldn’t have known the engine was on the verge of full shut down. No excuse for it I can think of, except pure laziness or plain not knowin’.” Wash said, his tone growing more emphatic as he spoke.  
  
It was Zoë’s turn to frown. “Did you talk to the Captain ‘bout this?”  
  
“I tried a bit earlier, but … seriously Zo; I don’t think Mal will be too keen on me criticizing his choices. Serenity is his boat after all.”  
  
“Weren’t so much choice as need that brought Bester on board.” Zoë said through a smile, ignoring his shortening of her name for the moment. “He was the first mechanic Cap brought on didn’t laugh his ass off all the way back out again when he said her wanted her runnin’.”  
  
“Well, I don’t know what to say about that.” Wash said. “’Cept maybe Serenity had something more to do with the getting up and going than that dai ruo mu ji back there. She’s a Firefly after all. Harder t’break then fix I hear tell.”  
  
“Now, what about the shielding, did you straighten it out?”  
  
“No, well yeah sorta, not really the best choice, not much of a choice at all actually, but the guy refused to take it back and let me reorder. So, I ordered the right shielding and paid for this gou shi with the cash the Captain gave me. If Mal wants, we can pick it up and pay for it in the morning, put it on and then try to sell this stuff elsewhere, which shouldn’t be too hard. It’s used on a couple a different planet jumpers I know of; or we slap this stuff on and make do until we can get the right stuff and hope we can make it fit right and don’t burn up next time we go into atmo.”  
  
“Not much choice indeed.”  
  
“Yeah.” He went back to putting away the items in his pack.  
  
“What did you buy?” she asked, after a long quiet moment, coming nearer to peruse his swag. He looked up again.  
  
“Just, uh, food type stuff… you know the usual.”  
  
“No more of those bananas I saw Bester gnawin’ on back there?”  
  
“You mean the banana he stole?” Wash asked trying to hide a grin, the tension broke then as he looked up at her with twinkling blue eyes. “There maybe might be. Can’t rightly remember what all I was grabbing. You know hot sun and all that? Makes me dizzy.”  
  
“Mmm hmm,” she said reaching for the packages. He pulled them out of her reach.  
  
“Excuse me, don’t you have first matey type stuff to be doing?” he asked over his shoulder, using his body to shield the package from her sharp eyes.  
  
“I think you should let me see that box, Pilot,” she attempted with sternness.  
  
“I’ll have you know, I purchased this booty with my very own ill gotten gains,” he said smacking her hand away.  
  
Zoë laughed, surprised at how very easily she found herself falling into his humor. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? She’d stifled her laughter and had moved to leave when he added. “And I bought the bananas for my dinosaurs; the herbivores were tired of all the protein crackers.” And she felt a ripple of laughter spill forth against her will as she went in search of the Captain.  
  
Wash thought it was a beautiful sound.

 

 


	5. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to rights... Or Not.

 

 

The next morning, as Zoë strode up the ramp into the cargo bay, returning from her trip to town with the Captain; her nose was met with a most delicious smell. She turned her head up toward the galley and frowned slightly in thought. Who was cooking?  
   
“Hello, I do smell food?” Mal said behind her. “And it ain’t burnin’.”   
   
“It would seem so, Sir,” Zoë replied as she repositioned the sack she was carrying on her shoulder.  
   
“That’s right mysterious.”  
   
“Yes it is.”  
   
“Shall we investigate?”  
   
“Seems wrong not to, Sir,” she answered with a smile, and she received one in return.   
   
They entered the galley to find Wash, of all people, behind the counter bustling about it in one of his loud shirts, russet jumpsuit tied around his waist. She saw Mal’s eyes widen, and moved to sit as he plopped into a chair at the end of the table.   
   
“Well, isn’t this down right domesticated of you, Wash, and here I thought I’d just hired a hell of a pilot. Didn’t realize I’d gotten myself a cook in the process.”  
   
Wash laughed, and Zoë chastised herself for enjoying the sound.  “Well, you would be disappointed if you started getting used to the idea. This here’s about the only thing I can make worth eatin’, and I’m sure you’d tire of pancakes real quick like.”  
   
“Don’t smell like pancakes,” Zoë said watching him flip one over deftly.  
   
“Ain’t your average fair. These here are my gran’s speciality. Banana pancakes,” he said with a smirk. “Only got them on real serious occasions, on account of bananas and such being at a premium. After yesterday, I was feeling in need of some comfort food.” Zoë thought he’d glanced at her briefly as he’d said the last part, and she wondered which part of yesterday he was referring to exactly.  
   
“Well, it’s right nice of you to share, Wash,” Mal said standing again, his voice sincere.  
   
“Mff mm nzz,” Bester mumbled through a full mouth. He was obviously helping himself to Wash’s generosity. The thought irritated Zoë immensely.   
   
“By the way, how’d it go in town, Captain? Did you sort out the heat shielding issue?” Wash asked looking up from his pancakes.  
   
“Yeah, I did. Had to sell his own gou shi back to him at a discount, but better off then if we’da kept it.” Mal tried to sound ok with the deal, but Wash thought he could hear the latent frustration hidden there.   
   
“Hmm, I didn’t think of that,” Wash said frowning and looking down to flip another fluffy looking flapjack. Zoë stood up and moved to take her purchases to her bunk so she could have a taste of this treat.  
   
“Well, that’s alright. Reckon I got a better deal then you would’a, what with my friend here beside me and all.”  
   
“Would that friend be your gun, or Zoë, Captain?” Wash asked his voice a mock serious. Zoë stopped at the portal.  
   
Mal stopped for a moment and smiled, “I reckon a bit of both actually. Zoë can be down right intimidatin’ when she wants to be.”  
   
“Don’t I know it,” Wash said, and she looked over her shoulder to see him smiling down into the pancake batter.  
   
She returned from her bunk moments later to find the three men gathered around the table, their mouths stuffed full, and a stack of the sweet smelling cakes waiting for her at her usual place. The top one had a smiley face cooked right into it. She looked down at it with a slight frown, and then quickly proceeded to cover it with the condiments on the table. She caught Mal smirking at her from the corner of her eye, and narrowed her eyes at him slightly.   
   
“Our pilot botherin’ you, Zoë?” he aside-ed with a quiet tone.  
   
“Not at all, Sir,” she said formally. If he only knew, she thought to herself. He found the flirting hilarious, as long as she was disdainful, but if he knew what’d happened yesterday he’d be furious. Fraternization between the crew would be extremely frowned upon by Mal. She looked down at the butter Wash had just pushed her way.  
   
“Did you spend your entire cut on this breakfast, Pilot?” she asked in surprise. There was an edge to her voice she hadn’t intended. It was such a waste of money for niceties like butter and syrup, even if the syrup was only the artificial type.  
   
“No, not completely,” he said looking away from her as he rose from the table, taking his plate with him to the sink. “Besides, what else am I gonna spend it on.” The last bit was said under his breath, as she watched him leave the mess and head toward the bridge. She frowned down into her plate again.   
   
   
   
After breakfast, they were all back outside in the bright sunshine. Zoë strode purposefully down the ramp, and made her way to a small knoll that would give her a better view of the surrounding area. They were a fair bit out from town, but by now, more then enough people to knew about their little predicament, and more then a few people in the ‘verse would happily take advantage of the situation. While Wash and Bester fixed the heat shielding, they would be at their most vulnerable, so she and Mal, armed to the teeth, took positions nearby to keep look out.  
   
The flare of the cutting torch caught her eye for a moment and she turned as Wash, with the welding helmet over his face moved in to remove the damaged parts of Serenity’s most outer hull. Bester stood next to him, also helmeted and held the shielding as Wash cut it, preventing its weight from damaging any other sections as it came loose from the hull. She turned back to peruse the horizon. She had been watching for sometime, when she caught sight of a bit of movement in the distance and narrowed her eyes, focusing on that place, absolutely still. Again, and this time she made out a man, his rough spun clothing almost blending into the background, but the glint off his gun barrel didn’t. She lifted her rifle to her shoulder.  
   
“Captain, vultures, ten o’clock,” she said into the small com that filled her left ear, the mouth piece nestled against her cheek. There was a long pause, and she knew Mal was finding the target himself.  
   
“Yep, looks like. Can you get a shot?”   
   
“Yes, Sir.”  
   
“Wait for my signal, and” he said his voice choppy like he was on the move, “Make it count.”  
   
“Always do, Sir,” she said taking careful aim.  
   
   
Wash pushed back his face shield and swiped at his sweaty brow with his forearm. The last piece of damaged shielding lay at his feet mangled, and imbedded with some rocks that had been pressed in while it was heated and were now trapped within. “Well, that’s step one. Might be we actually get this finished today.”  
   
“Might be,” Bester said tossing his helmet off to the side. “I wanna get off this rock. Hot as hell here.”  
   
“Hot it is,” Wash said, “But somehow I imagine Hell’s not quite so humid.”  
   
Bester laughed and moved toward the new shielding. They donned thick gloves, and set to work. Each piece had to be bolted then sealed with heat resin. Once they were started they couldn’t stop, or make mistakes, or they’d be back to square one. Wash found himself wishing he had a more reliable partner then Bester. For one, he should be the one heading this project, as the mechanic, this pretty much fell into his area of supposed expertise. Instead, it was lucky for Wash he had done this kind of work before. Bester seemed to be following his lead. For another, though Bester was the one who got Serenity flying again, he didn’t seem too adept at keeping her there. The man was an oddity for certain.  
   
The sudden, sharp report of rifle fire nearby made Wash jump. He turned his head only for a moment in the direction he remembered Zoë heading, sure it had been her rifle firing, and then turned back immediately. He had to focus.  
   
“Ai ya!” Bester said ducking.  
   
“Don’t drop it!” Wash yelled as Bester’s grip loosened, and the mechanic regained his hold just in time. Both men increased the pace of their work and another shot fired, this one from a distance.   
   
Zoë’s guns fired many more times, accompanied by other guns in the distance, but as the sun started to set, the firefight ceased. Wash could only hope their side had won. He wasn’t in any position to investigate, or to scoop them up in the ship and fly them off if they were in trouble as he usually did. They were all of them stuck until this was done. So, he just kept working.  
   
   
Zoë peered through the darkness looking for Mal. He hadn’t answered her on the com for sometime, but she had seen him firing when there had still been light enough to see. Now she was just waiting. She was fairly certain she had shot the last of them just before she’d lost the light, so Mal should be on his way back. If he didn’t show, she’d have to wait until Serenity was repaired before she could give up watch to go find him. That thought gave her an uneasy feeling. She turned back toward the ship and saw the two men still at work, her gaze resting longest on the broad expanse of Wash’s shoulders.  
   
Mal would just have to be alright. Any other choice would be unthinkable, so she refused to allow them.  
   
“You starin’ back at our crew like that for a reason?” came a voice out of the darkness, Zoë didn’t startle, just turned, as Mal stepped close enough for her eyes to see him in the dusk light. His hair was mussed and he had a small cut on his cheek, aside from that he looked to be in one piece, and that uneasy feeling smoothed away.  
   
“Just wonderin’ if I’d become their captain,” she answered flatly.  
   
“A job you’re wantin?”  
   
“No, Sir,” she replied and her voice told him she was a bit het up that he’d even ask.  
   
“Well then, it’s a right good thing I didn’t get myself shuffled off.” He smiled at her. “Their gone, or what’s left of ‘em any way, I just wanted to find that com. Things are damn expensive.”  
   
“Any luck with that.”  
   
“Hell no. It’s dark out there!”  
   
She smiled a little, “I noticed.”  
   
“Our boys done fixin us up yet?”  
   
“Not quite.”  
   
“I’ll stay here and keep look out till they are, you best go tell’em were still alive an all, so they don’t worry. Might hinder their work.”  
   
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a knowing tone, and handed him her rifle, her mare’s leg, and pistol still tucked into their custom holsters. She walked away down the hill, her footsteps quiet even in the hush of the evening. She called out as the two men stepped back from their work, looking it over critically.   
   
“’Bout done here?”  
   
Wash spun around at the sound of her voice, his eyes doing a quick inspection of her person and she knew he was looking for injuries. She could see his expression darken when his gaze touched on one. He was an open book that man. His eyes were still lingering on the blood on her arm when she spoke again.  
   
“Had a group of scavengers looking to move in. We took care of it, but it’d be best we weren’t here too much longer.”  
   
“You got shot,” Wash said distractedly.   
   
“Just a graze,” she replied. “You two got a timetable?”  
   
“Um,” Wash seemed to forcibly bring his gaze back to her face. “Yeah, we’re done here. It’ll need to cure though, about a day at least.” He turned back and looked at Serenity’s side. “We can take off though, she’ll cure up in the black just fine, long as she don’t need to hit planetside for at least 24 hours.”  
   
Her gaze turned to Bester. “Any reason we’d need to?”   
   
“What?” Bester said, just now entering the conversation. Wash rolled his eyes. “Uh, no, shouldn’t need to. I’ve got her goin’ just fine now. No problems. It’s shiny.”  
   
“Uh huh,” Zoë said, she looked back to Wash. “You got anything left to do before we take off?”  
   
“Fuses?” Wash responded, trying to think if there was anything else needed taken care of before they left atmo and solid ground.  
   
“You two get ready for take off, I’ll go inform the Captain.”  
   
“We in a hurry?”  
   
“Not a big one, just, best we leave soon, avoid anymore trouble.”  
   
With that she headed back out to where Mal was waiting, and the others moved up the ramp and into the ship.

   
Wash reached down under the console to retrieve the resin stegosaurus, and held it up, looking into the tiny molded face.  
   
“'Bout time you pulled me out of there,” he said for the toy, “Damned uncomfortable.” He retrieved the triceratops next, who had toppled a bit further back.  
   
“Where’s our bananas?” the triceratops asked as Wash set him down on the console. He was always all about the food.  
   
“Sorry, they were needed to serve a higher purpose.”  
   
“I’ve still got plenty to eat,” the tyrannosaurus growled as he joined them by the resin tree that Wash’d placed next to the left sensor screen, as if it were an oasis of water.   
   
“Some scientists believe that the three to five inch long teeth of the Tyrannosaurus rex have roots which are too short to support a meat-tearing, bone-crunching diet.” The stegosaurus liked to mess with the rex’s head.  
   
The rex was gearing up for a biting reply (literally), when another toy appeared under Wash’s nose. The brachiosaurus.  
   
“I thought you were replacing fuses?” Zoë said, and Wash turned to her, his eyes wide. His fingers brushed over hers as he pulled the toy from her hand, and their tips tingled slightly from the contact.  
   
“Just setting things to rights,” he said, as he carefully set the brachiosaurus with the others. She looked, for a moment, like she wanted to say something, her gaze drifting over the little scene he had set up. He wondered if she’d ever ask him about the dinosaurs. He wondered if he’d tell her. Finally, she leaned against the console, crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him with all the warmth of a commanding officer.  
   
“You’re an excellent pilot, Wash,” she said, and once again he was surprised by her compliment, “You’re an important part of this crew. Reliable and trustworthy, haven’t caused any trouble.”  
   
“Um, thanks?” he responded, not sure where this was going.  
   
“I’d hate it if you to felt you needed to leave over any misunderstanding I may have caused between the two of us.”  
   
Ah, so that’s where it was going. He felt his stomach tighten a bit. He had been expecting something like this, and yet somehow he still wasn’t prepared for it. What was he supposed to say? “No, no of course not, that’d just be silly.” The words fell from his lips as he looked away, and leaned in toward the fuse panel. He didn’t regret it. He wanted more, and not just the sex, but more of her. Whatever that meant, he wasn’t sure, he only knew he couldn’t get enough of just being in the same room with her. He looked up, his blue eyes connecting with her dark ones, and settled for saying one more thing. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
   
She looked back at him for a long moment, then nodded, “Cap’n’s ready to take off, soon as you’re ready.”  
   
He smiled slightly and looked away, “I’ll be just a minute.”  
   
Zoë walked away, moving toward the door, she had a day to be getting on with. It was nice to have that business out of the way. They didn’t need to be losing a good pilot just because she had an itch that needed scratched. She would just put back into place the walls she’d set against him originally. This wouldn’t be a problem. She turned as she reached the door and looked back for a long moment. He was turning one of his dinosaurs just so.   
   
No… this wouldn’t be a problem at all.   
  
  
The End


End file.
